


blank slate

by Balthuza



Category: Shards of the Sun
Genre: But he's trying, M/M, also, he cares too much about people who actually give a shit about him, he's an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 17:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: There are very few things Nil hates as much as feeling guilty.





	

There are very few things Nil hates as much as feeling guilty. He’s not sure what he’s done exactly, but seeing Leo’s behaviour, he’s obviously done  _ something  _ wrong. The fear that he accidentally hurt Leo stings, and he’s preoccupied with it the whole morning.

Then Cosimo arrives, and Nil can’t help, but be a little grateful for the distraction even as he’s climbing the stair to give his mother a full report on the man who just made Fyr cry. 

After that he digs through the library looking for the perfect recipe. When he had this idea it was supposed to be for Garl. And it was a brilliant idea.

The only problem is - Nil can’t cook. At all.

Apparently Cosimo can, and Nil can barely stop himself from dragging he man to the kitchen immediately.

 

He’s barely aware he’s taking the apron off, putting it gently on the back of his chair. The box is right there when he opens the wardrobe. The wood smooth like butter under his fingers, he remember’s Leo’s hands wandering over the table, and takes a deep breath.

His fingers shake, just a little, when he takes it out. 

This is not what he had in mind when he sat down with Flick to make the damn thing. Inside sits the guild stamp, still blank. He takes it out and puts aside. If he ever gains the right to use it, there will be time to make another box. Right now he can’t imagine a better use for it. He wipes the imaginary dust from the lid, and runs back down.

 

Leo’s fascination with the box is distracting. Nil’s trying to apologize, his mouth taking over at some point, as always, and he really would prefer if Leo told him to shut up already.

Instead he’s there, face red and hands wandering over the carvings, and Nil mentally despairs, deciding he’s probably nearly as bad as Garl.

 

In the end he can’t help but feel accomplished. Even more when later, much later, he gets a mental image of strawberry cookies and champagne with an impression of a thumb up. 

Baking was the best idea he’s ever had.

 


End file.
